nebuloracle

[nebuloracle]

Presenting Hamal Farouq, the Starseed forged in fire. Hamal has a hard head, a hot temper, and a penchant for blazing trails, but what else would you expect from an Aries?

The world of Celestials is not kind to him, but he is far too much for the world of humans to handle. He walks the precipice, drawing the line in the sand himself, searching for answers, and giving anyone that hopes to abuse his home or his friends a piece of his mind.

Art by Jamil Gonzalez

[nebuloracle]

[nebuloracle]

[nebuloracle]

Daya - The Music Theory Problem I've Been Reverse-Engineering for Years.

I never know who to ask for help. Nobody I know is into musical theory, and the places I go to for help end up deleting my posts, so I've given up that thread. I'm just posting this to vent about my creative process. Maybe from it, someone will see, or It is not necessary to know everything musical theory in order to write music, but if I did, I'd stop composing myself into pickles I lack the understanding to compose myself back out of.

This is all I have so far. All I had for a while was the intro. It wasn't even meant to be an intro—it was just a phrase I had hummed out and saved back in 2021. A few weeks ago I added more on. This whole time, I'm really only sketching out a melody at most. I add in the part I was humming out, get bored, and add drums, because the melody really only comes through when played against another rhythm. So I do that. It sounds awesome! I'm excited. Now that that diversion's over, I wonder what's next... If possible, what would have come before this part? I start to study what I'd just made. My discoveries were terrifyingly sobering. Through it, I can now put words to a workflow and composition problem I've been having for actual years!

Here is the piano roll of the intro. It's the first Idea I had in 2021. From what I remember, I had no tonic in mind for this. I've started off assuming the tonic is G. Major, Minor, I wasn't sure, I just knew the next chord and how it resolved. D, F#, A, and C make a D7 chord. This bit of tension resolves back into G from the 4th degree C, going to A#, into A, and back to the tonic of G. Then I repeat until I go into the 2nd degree, A. This perfectly enables transition into D, which is G's perfect fifth. The tonic could have been G. It could have been A. I don't remember the original intent, because this was the entirety of the idea for three years. However, moving to D now means I've just created the next fucking tonic! You can hear it just thunk its way into D harder than the bus that dropped Spongebob off at Rock Bottom.

And now I'm stuck here.

This has happened more than once, but every other time, I've managed to keep it all very self-contained. I never venture far from the tonic, because that's "home." I don't know where to go from there. I know I could go anywhere, but what is the meaning behind any choice I make from here? It's a part of an interrelated web of concepts I don't yet have committed to intuition. There's a gap in my technical understanding, and because of it, I lack a complete heuristic.

I'll probably be humming while I find my way out of this mess.

[nebuloracle]

[nebuloracle]

[nebuloracle]

dear 2025 me: i hope you’re writing. i hope you’re thriving. and if you’re not, it’s okay. just don’t delete everything this time.

[nebuloracle]

Acubens's true celestial name is a song—a twelve-minute series of harmonic oscillations repeated as the same twenty-six-second tune, repeating over and over, each time in different keys, and always pronounced at frequencies high enough to make a bat vomit. Through great trial and effort, Sam managed to learn and sing back the name of the goddess he claims in his heart. His rendition, butchered by his mild tenor and awkward rhythm, was hopelessly inaccurate. But to her, it was perfect. She found his mispronunciations endearingly entertaining. It was a melody that only something like he could have created, and for a fleeting moment, it made her feel truly honored.

Now, in her absence, Sam sings the lyrics he'd written to himself. He often entertains the idea of hiring a choir to celebrate her return. He could see her radiance emanate as she glides on beams of light from the heavens, like a true angel. The choir would sing her name in rapturous praise uttering Sam's human words of reverence:

How do guiding angels, know where to go? Look to the sky, when she's here, she glows! We'd go dancing in my twilight, celestial rose. Look to the sky, when she's near, she glows!

[nebuloracle]

20 Ways to Show Anger in Your Writing

Here’s a list of 20 signs of anger that writers can use to show, rather than tell, a character’s emotions through physical, verbal, and internal reactions:

1. Facial Expressions

Clenched jaw or grinding teeth

Narrowed or glaring eyes

Lips pressed into a thin line or curled into a sneer

2. Body Language

Fists clenched tightly at their sides

Tense shoulders that rise or square up

Puffing out the chest or stepping closer to confront

3. Speech Patterns

Voice lowered to a dangerous, icy tone

Shouting or raising their voice suddenly

Speaking in short, clipped sentences

4. Breathing Changes

Heavy, rapid breathing (nostrils flaring)

Sharp inhales and audible exhales

Holding their breath as if trying to stay in control

5. Sudden Physical Movements

Slamming fists onto tables or walls

Pacing back and forth restlessly

Pointing a finger or jabbing the air during speech

6. Uncontrolled Gestures

Shoving objects off a desk or knocking over a glass

Finger tapping or knuckle cracking

Wrapping arms tightly around themselves

7. Temperature and Flushes

Red face, neck, or ears

Visible veins on the neck or forehead

Breaking into a sweat despite the situation

8. Eye Movements

Eyes darting or rolling sharply

Avoiding direct eye contact out of fury

Staring someone down with unblinking intensity

9. Words and Tone

Cursing, insults, or verbal jabs

Sarcasm sharpened to hurt others

Accusations thrown in frustration

10. Breaking Personal Space

Leaning in closer, looming over someone

Pointed steps toward another person to intimidate

Physically turning away to dismiss or avoid conflict

11. Physical Reactions

Throwing objects or breaking things in rage

Punching walls, doors, or inanimate objects

Shaking hands or trembling with pent-up anger

12. Posture Shifts

Back stiffening and chin lifting defiantly

Shoulders jerking or twitching

Rigid stance as though ready for confrontation

13. Inner Thoughts (for internal POV)

“I could feel the blood boiling in my veins.”

“The room seemed to close in on me.”

“My pulse thundered in my ears.”

14. Displacement of Anger

Kicking objects on the ground (chairs, trash bins)

Storming off abruptly or slamming doors

Snapping at someone unrelated to the cause of anger

15. Temperature Descriptions (metaphors/sensations)

Heat rushing to their face or spreading through their chest

A cold sensation washing over them, signaling restrained anger

Feeling fire “lick” at their insides or their temper “ignite”

16. Instinctive Responses

A growl or grunt escaping their lips

Baring their teeth as if instinctively defensive

Ripping or tearing something in their grip

17. Silence as a Weapon

Pausing dramatically before responding

Refusing to speak or meet someone’s eyes

The ominous quiet just before they explode

18. Physical Sensations

Muscles twitching or vibrating under the skin

Heart pounding visibly at their throat or chest

A bitter taste in their mouth or nausea from anger

19. Reactive Behaviors

Interrupting others to correct or attack

Dismissing concerns with a quick wave of the hand

Throwing out ultimatums like “Don’t push me!”

20. Lingering Aftermath

Hands trembling after the initial outburst

A headache, buzzing ears, or lingering tension

Regret or shame slowly replacing the heat of the anger

These signs can be layered together to create realistic and powerful depictions of anger, whether it’s smoldering beneath the surface or erupting violently.

[nebuloracle]

You know what? I'll say it. Posting here is much better than writing on an unsaved notepad for three weeks only to encounter an unexpected power outage long after you'd forgotten that you were writing anything.

It has autosave!

[nebuloracle]

Correction: Yami Bakura sitting on a Yami Rock.

Bakura sitting on a rock

Yami Bakura sitting on a rock

[nebuloracle]

Arcturus of the Boötes constellation shines bright in an otherwise unremarkable patch of night sky. Despite it being a rather dim and aging orange giant, its presence is striking. Orange stars are known for their docile habitability. For some reason, it seems both the bluest and the reddest stars—extremes on both sides of the spectrum—lack the same restraint an orange star would hold. Blue stars are too vain and capricious; they burn far too bright to do anything but irradiate any planet nearby. And even the furtive red dwarf still bombards its surroundings with solar flares.

Arcturus, while old, stands as a monument of temperance, succumbing to no extremes. Why? Is it pacifism? Happiness? Cowardice? Maybe it's an acceptance—that neither the euphoria of shaping the world to your will, nor the zealous rebellion against mortality itself, will bring true longevity.

Orange stars aren't the coolest, and they're certainly not the coldest, but they are the most chill. And it's thanks to that chill that Arcturus endures, watching over Ursa, and us all.

Optical image of Arcturus provided via the Mikulski Archive for Space Telescopes (MAST), STScI, and NASA.

[nebuloracle]

Writing is one of the oldest art forms. Its impact on humanity is almost as monumental as oral history and mythology. However, writing alone, won't ever measure up to anything else in the modern day. It has its place, and people still enjoy it as its own art form, but it's hard to sell a wider crowd on the idea of reading as a form of entertainment, because, as you've put it, an image of anything stimulates the mind more readily and intensely than simply reading. I have something close to aphantasia. Not only is it hard to imagine what I read, but I realize it affects my writing as well. Despite it all, without writing, there's little meaning, substance, or intent behind a piece of art.

The simplest writing can imbue integral and structural meaning into an image, a song, a game, anything. And likewise, image, music, voice, etc, can imbue a sense of deepened immersion to a piece of writing (something that helps engage people who can't imagine as vividly as others.)

Even Disco Elysium started as a book. How popular was Sacred and Terrible Air though before it was expanded into a game, though? Hardly!

... Nevermind the fact that it was written in Estonian. Even translated, I doubt the book would have done numbers on its own. That's just the nature of the entertainment beast—not the industry, but the way an audience desires to be engaged and entertained.

We writers are at a disadvantage alone, but without us, most modern entertainment would fail to hold itself upright.

The Problem With Being A Writer On Social Media...

...is that pictures will always win. A picture of an empty toilet paper roll will inevitably be more popular online than whatever amazing thing you've written, because reading takes slightly more effort than moving your thumb to click a heart.

[nebuloracle]

Venus and The Pleiades

[nebuloracle]

Entangled Across Worlds

Hamal’s thoughts tangled with unnamed emotions, each one pulling him in a different direction. This field he found himself in was a momentary sanctuary, where he could escape the suffocating weight on his chest, even if only a little. Here, the worries of Mimi’s cryptic concern, Arcturus’s unannounced intrusions, and the chilling embrace of the mysterious woman in his dreams seemed distant. The insects chirped and sang Hamal into a deep sense of comfort. The chilling breeze wicked away his warmth, but he found solace in the warm topsoil beneath him. This field was the only place where he could pretend to be alone. Deep down, however, he knew solitude was a fleeting luxury. Tonight, throughout the vastness of space, even that would be denied to him. Not even a contented sigh could escape his lips before the voice of her returned.

“I haven't told you my name,” she said with terse apology, her tone clipped yet sincere. Her words brushed against his thoughts like a gentle solar wind over a tiny moon, "You can call me Ascella."

Now, that was a name Hamal was familiar with. He couldn’t remember where he’d heard it, though. He’d much, much rather she leave him alone, however. Hamal had hoped to use the moment of peace to sort out his feelings. This would only be another distraction—but why not?—he chose to humor it. Hamal’s brow clenched, thoughts racing, trying to piece together the identity of the specter that this mysterious voice seemed to be connected to.

“You know, that name rings a bell, actually,” he muttered, more to himself than to her. “If you're really some kind of magical star-girl, then wouldn’t that mean some crazy astronomer dude discovered you the day you were born? I guess you wouldn’t know, being from space and all.”

The two held in silence for a moment. Hamal could feel the moisture of the grass he laid upon. From parts unknown to him, Ascella looked down upon a shimmering blue gem in the heavens, hiding herself from the unfiltered radiance of Sol. Ascella's mind hastened at the mention of a ‘crazy astronomer’ and its potential meaning. The thought of her moving one step closer to her father enticed her. Hamal could serve more purpose than being a person to get along with, but she hesitated to dig deeper. Ascella had learned not to raid someone's thoughts, even if it was easy to do so. There was no guarantee he had the truth in that head of his, and even if he did, getting it could be an irredeemable act in his eyes. Besides, it’s a big planet, to the tiny folk at least. Hamal could have been speaking of anyone.

“You’ve… heard of me?” Ascella asked, her voice quiet but insistent. She had to clarify, “That doesn’t make sense. Please clarify: do you mean Ascella from Sagittarius? Or perhaps one of the Acellus stars from Cancer?”

Hamal shrugged, an awkward gesture she could feel through his thoughts. “I don’t know. Isn’t Ascella the name of that new star? The one that appeared… like twenty years ago?”

Her mind raced, though she kept her tone steady. "Oh, yes," she said, the words tumbling out faster than she intended. "That is my star."

“That’s crazy. So Ascella is the girl I’m talking to, and also a star in space light-years away, and they’re one and the same?”

“That’s correct.”

“How is that even possible? Okay so what does this star in proportion to you? Do you think with a brain or with the star? Does it, like, send data into your head like cosmic wi-fi? How are you not having a huge identity crisis over this?”

“It’s not something I’d bother explaining. I wouldn’t expect you to understand. The perspective of earthbound beings is...”

“Careful, space angel.” Hamal said, his voice breaking the ambient silence. He was grateful no one was around to see him snapping his words at voices in his head. The words came out louder and drier than intended, but he didn’t regret it. His body relaxed once again, but his mind remained sharp, “Earthbound or not, don’t blame me just ‘cause you can’t explain things.”

The thought resonated, a declaration not just to Ascella but to himself. He wasn’t to be trifled with—human or not. He’d spent too long convincing himself he was a normal guy like everyone else, that nothing was wrong with him. He’d all but accepted that both those things weren’t true.

Ascella hesitated, the force of Hamal’s mind hitting hers with the raw intensity of a solar flare. She sifted through the explosion of referential thoughts bombarding her, not invading but catching enough glimpses to feel the weight of who—or rather what—he truly was. The conclusion struck her like a slap to the face. From thousands of miles away, Ascella held her hands over her mouth. “You’re the Hamal of Aries.” She could sense Hamal's sudden vulnerability; a raw, unguarded moment of defenselessness where his deepest truths emerged unfettered. "You're aware," she whispered, more to herself than to him. It wasn’t a question, but a statement of cosmic revelation.

Hamal stiffened, every nerve in his body going taut. The air felt sharper, colder. There was nothing to fight nearby. And even if he felt like hurting something, deep down, he knew Ascella wasn’t really his enemy. “Don’t,” he said, his voice low, dangerous. His thoughts, jagged and raw, raised walls between them like armor forged from memory and fear. “Don’t poke around where I don’t want you.”

But the truth was already out, shimmering like starlight in the space between them. Neither of them could deny it now: Hamal wasn’t just another human. He was like Ascella, a star walking in mortal form. Hamal was a celestial.

“So… what now?” Hamal finally spoke up, breaking the tense quiet between them.

“I don’t know,” Ascella admitted with a sigh. “I’ve never met another celestial like me before, one with a human parent.”

“Well, I don’t really know any either,” Hamal chuckled humorlessly. “I’ve spent most of my life trying to convince myself that I was just like everyone else.”

“You’re not alone in that feeling,” Ascella said.

Silence hung for far too long. To Hamal, anything would be better than sitting and talking about his problems, so he sharpened his gaze to the sky, raised a finger, and began tracing imaginary lines between constellations. The gesture sent a ripple of anxiety through Ascella.

"What are you doing?" she asked, her voice trembling despite her effort to sound composed.

"I just got wondering, where’s your star?" Hamal said, his tone casual, oblivious to the weight of his actions. "So now I’m looking for it. I’m no expert, but I used to stargaze a lot with some friends back in high school. I think I can figure out where Cancer is from here if I find Polaris…" That star was aimed really high from his perspective, or so Hamal had guessed.

“Y-you’re what?” Ascella’s chest tightened. She wanted to stop him, to say it didn’t matter. Hamal had made it clear in the past that he wasn't the best candidate for this act of courtship, but the words caught in her throat. Did he even realize? Every shift of his hand felt like a thread pulling tighter around her, tugging at insecurities she couldn't untangle. She feared the vulnerability that would come from Hamal’s actions. He’d just asked her to not dig around, yet now chose to turn around and stare at her star? This made no sense, yet felt as if it checked out. If her father really was crazy, like Hamal may have offhandedly called him, then wouldn’t this align all too well?

"Why are you doing this?" she asked suddenly, her voice sharp. For a moment, Hamal hesitated, lowering his hand slightly. Her question had reached him, tugged at something just beneath his surface. Why was he doing this? Was it just to move the subject away from himself and his problems?

"Because I can," he muttered, side-eyeing the grass.

“That’s… sweet? That’s unlike you. No, forget I said that. Really, you don’t have to do all of this. I’d rather you not.”

“Well too bad,” Hamal says, “Stars are public domain. I’m gonna finger that star if it—let me stop myself right there. This one you?" He pointed to a star at random.

"No!" Her voice barked in his mind. "That’s Betelgeuse! You can't possibly think I'm that old."

Hamal snorted. "Fine. You’re picky for someone who doesn’t want me looking."

Betelgeuse. Now that was a handy clue; it meant Hamal was staring at Orion. Taurus should be somewhere to the right of Orion if that was the case, and above the loose cluster of stars that made up Orion’s club would be Gemini. If he could trace out the twins, he’d find their heads—and Pollux… Cancer wouldn’t be far away. Hamal continued scanning, brushing off Ascella’s protests as he narrowed his search. Ascella swallowed her unease. She couldn’t tell what the right thing to do was anymore. It wouldn’t make her a good friend to force him to stop. But as she let him search, her mother’s words echoed in her mind: “When a human finds your star, they’ve found your soul.”

She could still see Acubens’s glowing form, her voice reverent, speaking of the sacred bond she forged with a human in an instant. “When he found me,” her mother had said, “the entanglement was immediate. His devotion was overwhelming, but we wanted the same thing, and so his convictions called me to him. Through this, I learned what it meant to be a goddess—distant, divine, and irreplaceable." These words lingered in Ascella’s mind, shaping her own conflicting feelings about being found. Could she bear to be understood so intimately, not just for her brilliance but for the shadows within? The idea alone excited her, but its implications were still frightening.

Acubens’s words had been fervent, almost worshipful. To Ascella, they had felt intoxicating yet dissonant. Being discovered wasn’t just an encounter but a claiming—intimate and cosmic. Her mother hadn’t cherished the mortal’s love for its tenderness but for its totality. Ascella had imagined this moment going differently for her. Ascella simply wanted friendship, not love or worship. Hamal wanted… What did Hamal want here? Ascella wanted to find out, but Hamal wasn’t one to talk about his desires. Instead, he’d just hunt them down on his own until they were his. Ascella’s stomach fluttered at the thought. Maybe this really was meant to be.

And yet, Hamal, oblivious to the implications, continued his search. Each shift of his hand sent her pulse aflare, pulling her closer to the edge of something terrifyingly profound. From Gemini, it took a bit of guesswork, but he made his way to Cancer. From the middle, Acellus Australis and Acellus Borealis, just like Ascella had mentioned, were not her. In this direction were two of the legs of the crab. Hamal had forgotten their names, but they weren’t very memorable. On the opposite end were Altarf and Acubens, the other two legs on the constellation, which meant this bright star that has no business here was…

Then he stopped. His hand froze midair, and in the span of a heartbeat, their world narrowed to a single point of light. A thought rippled through the connection, unbidden and undeniable. It was his. It was hers. It was theirs together: "Found it."

Ascella gasped. For a moment, she felt their connection snap taut, a thread binding them across the cosmos. It wasn’t just her star he had found. It was her.

The sensation consumed them both, overwhelming every sense as their thoughts mutually eclipsed one another. Their minds brushed against each other, revealing glimpses of their innermost selves. They felt exposed, vulnerable, and exhilarated all at once, connected in a way they’d never felt with anyone before. It was a spinning rush of explosive release, as if the duality of their minds had approached an inescapable threshold, where they could both share in a distinct oneness. It didn’t feel like they needed to hold back anymore. And then, just as suddenly as the connection was established, the sensation evaporated into nothingness, before either of them could get acquainted with each other’s inner souls.

Hamal lowered his arm, blinking as he tried to process what had happened. "What was that?" he asked, his voice quiet, dwarfed by the magnitude of the moment they’d shared.

Ascella struggled for words, her mind spinning. It happened. She didn’t want it to, but that crazy Aries went and stared into her soul anyways. What did it mean for them? She only knew one way to react.

“Unbelievable,” she whispered, masking her turmoil with a teasing lilt. "That was—wow. Did you feel that? Like everything just… clicked for a second? You’re so forward, Hamal! Insisting to stare into my star like that… I don’t know what to say. "

"What?" Hamal blinked at her, uncomprehending. "I was just looking for a star. I didn’t…" He trailed off, unsure how to respond.

But Ascella wasn’t listening. Her thoughts raced between her mother’s warnings and the undeniable thrill of what had just happened. As fear warred with excitement, she forced herself to double down, her tone wavering but light. "You can't deny what we both felt. That was cosmic entanglement, and you’d better take responsibility for it," she said, crossing her arms and projecting what she hoped was mock indignation.

Hamal stared at her like she’d grown a second head. "Take responsibility? For what?"

"We share a special bond now. You’ve found my star. You've graced the purity of my soul with your eyes."

Hamal snorted, shaking his head. "You’re joking, right?"

Ascella bristled. "No. This is serious! My mother said—uh—when a human devotes themselves to finding a celestial’s star, that’s love! It—it has to be! It's cosmic law! You’ve entangled yourself with me."

“Wait, stars have laws? You’re making this up as you go, aren’t you?”

“Okay, maybe I don’t know all the rules, but it felt important, and my parents felt this too. There’s a precedent! Doesn’t that mean something?”

"So you have one example. Does that mean your parents are experts in this?" Hamal asks.

Ascella’s lips parted, but no sound came. The accusation hung in the air, sharp and unyielding. Her gaze faltered, drifting away from the earth as she scavenged her memories once again. The truth was as glaring as the starlight around them: she didn’t know. Not for certain. “I mean…” she started, then faltered. “It’s what my mother told me. And… she wouldn’t just fabricate meaning from something so important.”

Hamal rolled his eyes. "I'm gonna stop you there, before you have an aneurysm—or a solar flare, or something. I wasn’t devoting myself to anything. I thought looking for a star might move things closer to a “see you later.” And anyways, I'm not just some human, now am I? I'm the brightest star in Aries, and you're the brightest in Cancer. Let's not pretend like we have to follow our parents' every word. We'll get along better that way."

Ascella tried to clap back, but words wouldn't manifest out of her feelings. This cut deep, and she had to spend time reflecting on what had just happened between them. Another long silence lingered. Ascella looked up to her mother, and really thought the wisdom she imparted would help her for a moment like this, but Hamal seemed intent on breaking all convention she was taught. She didn't want to stay and take this. She didn't have to. But all that stood at the end of this conversation was a long and lonely stroll through lunar regolith, like most days.

"Fine. If that's how you truly feel," Ascella said, her surgical tone returning, "then you'll receive just what you've wanted. When the full moon reaches its apogee, if you've had enough of your 'space,' do consider reaching out again."

Then, it went silent. Hamal let out a heavy sigh. Her words lingered in his mind, alongside the strange, electric sensation of finding her star—of finding her. He didn’t know what to make of it, and a part of him didn’t want to. It was easier to chalk it up to another one of those bizarre celestial phenomena he wasn’t ready to face head-on. Yet, he couldn’t shake the nagging thought that maybe Ascella had a point, that maybe there was something more to all of this.

From the skies overhead, Hamal could see a shooting star. Its pale blue glow streaked across the sky to the eastern horizon, leaving a long tail that quickly dispersed. Hamal got up to watch it zoom by, fascinated by its beauty. It looked like it was almost headed straight for the moon.

[nebuloracle]

by babaktafreshi

[nebuloracle]

Quintin O'Connell - ANOMIE